


Desert Hearts

by Rainbowfootsteps



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Cowboys, Drama, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, alternate universe - wild west, gunslinging and such, probably shimadadrama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12031023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowfootsteps/pseuds/Rainbowfootsteps
Summary: Jesse, after being tricked by his partner-in-crime, is left to die in the desert. On his journey back to civilization he saves the life of Hanzo, left to a similar fate. They join forces to get revenge, and accidentally fall in love along the way. Not that either want to admit it.





	Desert Hearts

Usually, the sun beating down on Jesse’s back didn’t bother him. After a life spent in the Chihuahuan desert, he was more than used to the constant heat. Today was a little different.

“Good fer’ nothing, two-faced, lyin’, goddamn heartless piece of shit...” He muttered. His spurs jingled softly with each step he took. That just pissed him off more. He looked down at his dust-covered boots and scowled. He wouldn’t have to be walking if his fucking horse hadn’t been stolen! “Team up and rob the bank together”, his ass. He was going to flay Cassidy within an inch of her life when he found her!

He looked up. Arid plains, as far as the eye could see. The ground was flatter than a windless ocean. The only vegetation was scrubby bushes that barely made it to his knees. Far off in the distance, a few craggy mountains clawed up to the quickly fading red sky. Yeah, he would flay Cassidy alive. If he made it out of this place.

He gently patted his holster. The feeling of Peacekeeper still in its rightful place was a small comfort. For reasons unknown, Cassidy had left him with most of his belongings - although most weren’t to be envied. His tattered serape and worn hat were meagre relief against the baking sun, though now he noticed it was quickly sinking below the horizon. He sighed. He’d better set up camp.

* * *

Where to wait out the night wasn’t a difficult choice. The only slight protection from the elements he’d found was a gentle hill, with a fortunate lack of scrub at the base. Now, with a fire warming his tired muscles, Jesse could at least relax a little. The sky was clear, thousands of stars shining down on him. If he stared hard enough, images would jump out at him: a carriage, a smoking gun, a cigar. The last thought made him bite his lip, the delicious thought of a cigarillo between his teeth almost too much to bear.

His hat was placed beside him. The serape was as good a blanket as any. He’d debated against sleeping through the night; surely it was better to walk when it was cool? But then, he knew the mountains in the distance. There was a trading route nearby, and damned if he was going to miss being picked up by some travelling salesman because he was snoozing. He gripped his serape a little tighter around himself and closed his eyes. He’d get out of this alive. He didn’t care how hard it would be. 

_Goodnight, mijo. Let’s make tomorrow even better than today._

CRUNCH!

His eyes snapped open. An unmistakeable sound - dry desert scrub underfoot. In an instant, his body was alert. He untangled himself from his serape silently, perching Bessie on his head and retrieving Peacekeeper from its holster in deft movements. As he rose to his feet, he scanned the darkness all around him. Even in the moon’s cold light, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Had he imagined the noise? His thumping heart told otherwise.

“Who’s out there?” He demanded. The only reply was the fire’s crackling. His eyes were searching the landscape almost feverishly, body twisting to try and see everywhere at once. He must be going insane. There was nothing for miles, only him and his imagination. 

Then he saw the figure.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it. They were walking towards him, silhouette growing until it became the figure of a stocky man. Jesse took a step back, raising his revolver.

“Hey now, come into the light. No funny business, you hear me?” He said. The man didn’t respond. Jesse aimed his gun firmly at the stranger’s heart. 

“Who are you? Start talkin’ or I shoot!” 

The other man’s silence continued. He was finally close enough that his face was illuminated by the fire. He was strong-jawed, with eyebrows furrowed as if annoyed, and he was quite clearly asian. Jesse’s tense muscles relaxed a little.

“Are you one of them Chinese railroad workers? Must be pretty lost to get all the way out here.” He asked. The man didn’t respond. Now Jesse could see the lines of blood snaking down the man’s face, the tattered black clothing with multiple bloodied tears. He was now barely a metre away from Jesse. Peacekeeper was still steadily aimed at his heart, but Jesse was far too bewildered to pull the trigger. He slowly lowered his gun.

“You alright, partner?”

Before he finished his sentence, the man toppled forwards.

“Shit!” Jesse yelped and jumped forward on instinct, catching the man before he slammed into dirt. He carefully guided the man’s limp body to the floor, pushing him around slightly so he was closer to the fire. What the hell was he doing all the way out here? Was he the victim of bandits like Jesse? Usually, Jesse was stealing money from the likes of railroad workers. It felt a little funny to be helping one out - but hell, whoever this guy was, he was still human.

Jesse knelt down and inspected the unconscious man’s face. He was undoubtedly handsome, although currently his face was marred with dirt and dried blood. Black hair was held back in a short ponytail, a small stray lock lying across his face. His clothes were unusual - baggy trousers and a jacket-esque top, both ripped and dirty. Something he hadn’t noticed earlier was the bow and quiver slung on his back. He gently tugged them off and put them in a pile next to the man. Jesse sighed and rolled back on his heels, sitting down unceremoniously. He’d have to figure out what to do with this guy in the morning. With a final glance at the slumbering man, Jesse leant back and pushed his hat down over his eyes.

* * *

He woke early. When he opened his eyes, blinking away grit, the sky was only just turning faded blue at the very edges of the desert. The scrub shivered in a chilly wind. The fire was little more than a black smudge - and beyond it was the man. Jesse jerked a little when he saw him, his mind forced to come to terms again with his existence. The man appeared to be breathing, but the amount of blood caked on his skin was worrying. Jesse glanced around the barren landscape, searching for anything of use. Unless he was willing to clean the stranger with a sand bath, he was screwed.

“Ah, fuck it.” His shirt was ratty anyway. Jesse ripped a piece of fabric off the arm of his shirt, spat on it, and started to carefully clean the man’s face.

After a few moments, the man’s eyes fluttered open. Jesse didn’t stop rubbing off the dirt.

“Mornin’.” He mumbled. Poor guy probably couldn’t even understand him. The man paused for a moment. Then he began to flail. Clearly spooked, the stranger’s chest strained forward in an attempt to stand.

“Hey now, don’t panic. I’m on your side.” Jesse tried to gesture his goodwill towards the other man with a smile. He was given a suspicious look for a moment, but eventually the stranger lay back down. Jesse went back to cleaning off the blood from his temples.

“Got a name, partner? Sure hope you speak English or Spanish, or it’s gonna be a long n’ confusing day.” He said. The stranger blinked slowly.

“I speak English.” His voice was hoarse, but Jesse’s face split into a wide grin.

“Well, ain’t that somethin’! What’s your name, partner?” He asked.

“Shi- ... Hanzo.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Hanzo. Name’s Jesse, Jesse McCree. Looks mighty like we’re stuck together for a while, don’t it?” He replied. Hanzo gently but firmly pushed Jesse’s hand away and sat up. He observed the rolling desert all around them silently. 

“Kuso.” The man said quietly. Jesse didn’t ponder the meaning for long. He was much more interested in Hanzo’s story. He bunched up the now filthy rag and stuck it in his pocket.

“So, Hanzo, what brought you all the way out here to my little no-horse town?” He asked. Hanzo’s cold eyes slid to meet his.

“Bandits.” He replied fiercely. His voice was so full of hatred that Jesse felt a queasy pang in his stomach. Best not to enlighten Hanzo as to his profession, then. Instead, he nodded.

“Me too, partner. But how’d you get out here? Are you one of those railroad workers?” He said, desperate to divert the conversation.

“No.” Hanzo’s reply was brief. Jesse waited for an elaboration, but Hanzo just stared at him impassively. Jesse gave him a strained smile.

“Right then. Well, doesn’t really matter. We’re both up shit creek without a paddle. Think you’re able to stand?” He asked. Hanzo shifted, forcing himself up on clearly strong arms. Jesse felt an urge to comment on his impeccable physique and unusual tattoos, but bit his tongue. Hanzo clearly wasn’t much of a talker.

Hanzo rose to his feet, Jesse following shortly after. Even at his full height, Jesse was easily three or four inches higher than Hanzo, which he noted with amusement. The flex of Hanzo’s muscles as he reached down to pick up his bow and quiver advised him against mentioning it, however. Jesse looked around, squinting at the sun’s first rays over the horizon.

“Well, I’ve been walkin’ west for about half a day. Good a direction as any.” He announced. He marched forward decisively, and Hanzo followed. Hanzo was quite clearly limping; he only put the lightest of pressure on his left leg before shunting his weight to his other leg. 

“You alright, partner?” Jesse asked uncertainly. Hanzo nodded, his left shoulder gripped tightly by his opposite hand. Jesse raised an eyebrow but dropped the subject. Whoever this guy was, it was clear he’d been through some shit. He wondered faintly whether it was a mistake to let Hanzo tag along. Surely he’d make better progress without a limping mouth to feed? But then he glanced at Hanzo. His dark eyes were locked on the horizon, jaw gritted against the pain he must be in. Damn it, he couldn’t just leave him here! Train robberies were one thing. Leaving a stranger to die in the desert made him just as bad as - hell, just as bad as Cassidy. Jesse grumbled a string of swears under his breath. If he died because of this, he was going to be pissed.

The day dragged on painfully. The sun rose into a clear sky, warming the air until it was sweltering. The landscape stubbornly refused to change, still rolling desert and parched scrubs. Any signs of human life that had once existed had been scraped away by the wind and sun. Jesse’s spurs were the only timekeeper, jingling softly with every step.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Hanzo still staggered along, a step behind Jesse. All of Jesse’s attempts at conversation had been met with silence or an occasional grunt, so in the end he gave up. He was beginning to worry about Hanzo’s blood loss, however. His breathing was ragged, arrhythmic.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

His mind wandered to Cassidy. His blood instantly ran hot. What the fuck had possessed him, to try and team up with New Mexico’s most notorious trickster? His pockets had been bigger than his brain. He could distinctly remember the moment Cassidy decided he deserved to be dumped in the middle of the desert: his hands curled around a burlap bag, demanding half the profits. He was an idiot.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

He didn’t notice at first. He continued walking - then glanced behind when he heard a gentle thump. His eyes widened when he saw Hanzo slumped on the ground.

“H-hey! Come on, partner. Can’t stop now.” He dove to prop him up again. Hanzo’s head lolled forward, his skin ashen. 

“Ah, shit.” Jesse looked around desperately. There had to be something. Some shade, a river, anything! 

There!

Far off in the distance, he could see a hazy shape. Although it was distorted by the simmering heat, something man made was to the right of them.

“Up you get, come on.” Jesse shoved him gently, but Hanzo clearly had no plans of standing up. Damn it, and they were so close! Jesse let out an exasperated sigh. He chewed his lip for a moment - then rolled his shoulders back, stretching out his arms. 

Hanzo was heavier than he thought - his short stature was made up for in muscles. However, Jesse was eventually able to sling him over his shoulder, wincing at the feeling of Hanzo’s blood smearing on his arm. 

“Ain’t far now.” He grunted. “You better be damn grateful when you wake up.”

He was already suffering in the heat. With the added weight of an unconscious man to carry, Jesse could only manage a stagger. Each divot or bush was a new obstacle, usually overcome by a half-jump - more of a bigger step that threatened to make Hanzo fall off his shoulder. His spurs jingled with each heavy step. As he walked closer, the nebulous shape started to take the form of a caravan. Thank god, they were saved! Jesse’s stumbling gait quickened. His heart sped up. They could ask for a ride - hell, he could steal the caravan! 

As they got closer, his heart sank. The caravan seemed to be on an angle, drooping down on one side. He followed the caravan’s descent to the ground, where a wooden wheel lay broken in two. The fabric stretched over its ribs was tattered. He walked to the front of the abandoned caravan and poked his head inside. A few cases and bags were scattered about, some ripped and spilling what looked like flour. He leaned around to look at the other side - and nearly jumped out of his skin. A body lay in the dirt, bloodied and clearly the victim of a bullet to the head. Jesse tore his eyes away and turned back to the shaded interior. Here was as good a place as any to let Hanzo come to his senses. Maybe there would even be a scrap to eat.

* * *

By the time Hanzo regained consciousness, the sun had reached its peak and was beginning the slow descent towards the flat horizon. While he slept, Jesse had investigated the caravan. Once, it had probably been laden with trading goods headed for the nearest town. Now it was merely a gutted shell. A few wooden boxes were left inside; Jesse found old biscuits, some sort of cured meat, a flask half full of water, a pack of cards - and miraculously, a pack of cigarillos. He pounced on them immediately, stowing them away in his shirt pocket. He was inspecting one when Hanzo woke. Jesse had lain him on the wooden floor of the caravan, and he looked up when he saw Hanzo rub his temple.

“ _Kata ga itai desu…_ ” He muttered, his eyes scrunched closed. He sat up, and opened his eyes. When he saw Jesse, his eyes widened and he jerked backwards. Then, seeming to remember his predicament, his tensed muscles softened.

“Afternoon.” Jesse said, gritting the cigarillo between his teeth and smiled. Hanzo looked around, mildly bewildered. Jesse picked up the water flask and handed it to him.

“You’ve been asleep a couple of hours.” He commented. After a wary moment, Hanzo accepted the flask and raised it to his lips. Jesse raised an eyebrow when Hanzo took a large gulp.

“Leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you.” 

“Sorry.” Hanzo mumbled, handing the flask back. “...Thank you for helping me.”

“Ain’t a problem, Hanzo. Couldn’t just leave you out there, could I?” Jesse replied. His eyes swept over Hanzo, silently evaluating.

“I don’t think we’re gonna be makin’ much more progress today. How about we stick around here until tomorrow?” He suggested. Hanzo nodded, and Jesse grinned.

“Well, we’ve got to pass the time somehow - you know how to play go fish?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kata ga itai desu = my shoulder hurts (or at least, i think it means that! if it's incorrect, please tell me!)
> 
> WOO!!! more mchanzo!!! i love my boys!!!!!!!! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this new fic - I drew some fanart for it, which you can find here = https://rain-mirage.tumblr.com/image/165076697385


End file.
